


Welcome to Glory

by Pippin



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: 1800s, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gold Rush, M/M, Trans Character, trans hamilton
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-22 17:31:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6088351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pippin/pseuds/Pippin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mysterious desert community where no one comes or goes, existence is fluid, and some secrets are kept even from the people living them.  Welcome to Glory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Most Possible Time

**One: Most Possible Time**

_We will always be in that most dangerous, most exciting, most possible time of all: the now.  Where we can never know what shape the next moment will take.  (Welcome to Night Vale, Episode 21, A Memory of Europe)_

* * *

“Good luck, Alex,” Natasha said as she walked past Alex’s desk.

Alex glanced up in confusion.  “Good luck?  What’s going on?  Did I miss something?”

Natasha shook her head.  “Max figured out that, unlike the rest of us, the only thing keeping you in this town is this job.  You’ll see what I mean.”

Alex shook his head.  She was probably just trying to mess with him.  It was a pretty common occurrence among the staff, seeing that Alex barely took his head out of his work long enough to notice even the most obvious of happenings.  They all took advantage of that to play a variety of pranks on him, so this was likely just another of those.

“Hamilton!” Max, the editor-in-chief of the news site called.  “Can I talk to you in my office?”

Alex’s heart did a nervous little flip.  He couldn’t have done anything wrong that Max would need to talk to him about, unless Twitter fights on his own time and on an account not affiliated with the site in any way could be considered an issue.  He loved his job; he couldn’t be fired!

“Whatever you heard, sir, I assure you that it’s all lies or exaggerations.  I didn’t do anything wrong, and you can’t—”

Max cut Alex off with a raised hand.  “Are the rumors that I’ve heard correct, that the only ties you have to the area are your job?”

Alex swallowed hard.  That was a somewhat threatening question, but he couldn’t give a lie as the answer.  “Yes.  It’s true.”

“Wonderful.”

Goddammit all, the last thing that Alex wanted to do was cry, yet the tears pricked his eyes regardless of his desires.  “Sir?” he managed to get out in a somewhat level voice.

“There are rumors of a strange town out in California, one that has never existed before and only occasionally exists now.  It looks like a Gold Rush town, but there’s no record of there ever having been one in the spot where it keeps appearing.  We run international news, and this is a big story, but I’ve been talking to my colleagues at the top, and I am, in their words, the only one crazy enough to pursue this.  I want to send one of my top reporters to see if they can get the story.  You’re the only one without family or anything else holding him here, so you’re the only one I can send out west.  This is an honor, Hamilton, regardless of what anyone says.  I’m trusting you with what could be the biggest story of the century.  The company will pay for your tickets, you just have to provide us with the story.  If there is no story, then that’s fine.  It’s not a reflection on you.  You’re investigating rumors.”

Alex nodded.  “Understood, sir.  How long will I be out?”

Max shrugged.  “It’s your call, really.  However long you think you need to properly pursue the story.”

“And when do I leave?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

* * *

Alex was awake early the following morning, gut coiling in a way that he couldn’t remember experiencing since he had been thirteen and coming to the United States for the first time.  He had packed the night before and he didn’t have to be at the airport for at least three more hours, so, instead of trying to go back to sleep, Alex pulled out his laptop and started doing research.

As it turned out, there wasn’t much to find, only the vague rumors floating around on social media that had inspired the story in the first place.  As Max had said, their site would be the first to do any substantial research and writing on the mysterious town.  The social media posts, however, weren’t any help.  On the contrary, they only made things more confusing. 

“Okay, so does this town exist or not?” Alex muttered to himself after half an hour of searching.  There were conflicting reports, stories on the town blinking in and out of existence, stories of a ghost town where there had previously only empty desert, stories of people in 19th century dress and that no one had ever seen before—plenty of stories, but none that made any sort of sense.

Head spinning, Alex pulled on a mostly clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt from college that probably had a few too many holes to actually be wearable—all his good clothes were packed—grabbed his bag, and caught the subway to the airport.

The snarl of people around security was as frustrating and slow as ever, and Alex tapped his fingers on his leg as he waited.  Patience, as they said, was a virtue, but it was not one that Alex had in any measure.

Finally he got through security and found his terminal, getting lucky enough to discover an open outlet to plug his laptop into.  His flight didn’t board for another hour, but Alex was determined to get started on his article, or, at least, the journal that he would keep and turn into his article.

With the journal off to a good beginning, Alex turned to answering all his Twitter notifications.  He always had many, given his inability to keep his metaphorical mouth shut and his tendency to pick a fight with anything that moved.

Soon enough the boarding call for Alex’s flight was given and Alex found his seat on the plane.  Flying had never bothered him, and he lost himself in his work as he flew over the country.

* * *

California was unlike anything Alex had seen before.  He had grown up in poverty in the Caribbean, been passed around the foster care system until he had aged out, got his journalism degree at a community college near his last foster home while simultaneously working two jobs, started writing for the local paper until it had shut down due to low subscriptions, and then had gotten lucky enough to be hired at his current job in New York City, so he had been in all sorts of environments.  All the same, Alex had never been in a town like the one he was currently lodging in.  It was small and isolated, having grown out of a relatively successful Gold Rush town, and was also the closest populated point to where the mysterious town kept appearing.

Despite being exhausted from his flight (he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why traveling was so exhausting, even without changing time zones), Alex got started right away on his article, talking to people in town, or trying to.  Most of them refused to talk to him, and the ones that would talk to him were only doing so to tell him that he was crazy.

“You’re chasing ghosts, boy,” one older lady told him, eyes hard.  “There’s nothing there.  It’s only a story made up by kids who were getting high.  We have plenty of those out here; it’s not like there’s anything else to do.”

Alex shrugged.  “My editor wants me to follow it anyway.  He knows that it’s probably nothing, but he wants to get the story just in case it really is something.  He wants to be the first.”  He shrugged.  “I get to go out on assignment and do something new.  I’m not going to complain.”

“Whatever you want.”

* * *

Any attempts that Alex made at interviews over the next week went much the same, which was not good at all, with all the adults giving him judgmental looks and talking down to him.  Surprisingly, it was the teenagers who were most willing to talk to Alex, or, at least, humor him.

“It’s usually over there,” one girl said, gesturing into the desert. 

“In that valley,” one of the boys elaborated when Alex looked askance.  “There’s no set time for it to show up, which makes it really hard to explore.  We can never get there fast enough when it comes back.  We’re not allowed to, anyway.  The adults are all afraid that we’re going to vanish along with when it goes.  Why are you so curious, anyway?”

“I’m a reporter,” Alex explained.  “I’m supposed to write about this town for my news site.  My editor wants to beat everyone else to the story, if there is one.”

The group nodded, but Alex could tell that they didn’t really care, about either the story or the adult talking to them.  He knew that he wasn’t exactly the type of adult that they were used to (none of the others in the town dressed like he did, a style born out of both living in New York City and buying all his clothes in thrift stores; he’d heard it described as hipster once, and another time one of his female coworkers had declared, to his confusion, that he was just a sad trash baby), and he was an outsider, to boot.  He remembered well enough from foster homes what it was like being a newcomer in a tightknit small town, so their reaction to him wasn’t exactly surprising.

* * *

Later that night, Alex sat crosslegged on the bed in his motel room, typing furiously away on his laptop.  He wasn’t working on the article, since he didn’t really have anything he could do what with the lack of cooperation from the townspeople.  Rather, he was working on another of his social justice editorials that he published regularly, since the issues of the world weren’t going to stop just because he was across the country on assignment.

He was halfway through a sentence on transgender rights when he realized something.

“You’re an idiot, Hamilton,” Alex muttered, hitting himself lightly on the forehead.  “The kids said that the town comes and goes randomly, and that there’s no way to get out there from here before it vanishes again.  So go out there and wait for it.  They told you exactly where it appears.  Go to it.  It's not that hard.”

* * *

Early the next morning, Alex headed out to the desert in the car he had rented for the trip.  He took a few bags with him, things that he would want to have if he were to get trapped in the town—his laptop, his phone, his several portable chargers for both, his old duffel bag from the Caribbean stuffed full of clothes, and his backpack full of books and notebooks and pens, and some food and water.

When he reached the point where the town was said to appear, Alex climbed out of the car, bringing his bags with him.  He wasn’t going to miss the town just because he was stuck in a car.

There was a large flat rock not far from where Alex had parked, and he chose that for his waiting spot.  It was a place that he would be able to spread out and relax and soak up sun while he waited, something that he always liked.

Making sure that he was still attached to all his bags, just in case he had to run to the town suddenly, Alex pulled out a book and started to wait.  He would wait this town out no matter how long it took.

* * *

Three books later, Alex was starting to question the truth of the town.  None of the books had been short, and the sun had moved from peeking over the horizon to its blistering afternoon height.

“I should have brought more water,” Alex grumbled at he stared at the empty water bottle in his hands.  It was his last one, unfortunately, but he was sure that the moment he left to get more water was exactly when the town would appear.  Deciding to ignore his thirst, Alex cracked open another book and resigned himself to more waiting.

He was about a quarter of the way through the book when the letters started to dance.  “Well, that’s not a good sign,” Alex muttered to himself, blinking rapidly in an attempt to make the page hold still.  It didn’t work. 

“Okay, screw the town, I need to go back,” Alex said, standing up.  That was a mistake, as the next moment saw Alex passed out on the ground, surrounded by buildings that hadn’t been there a moment earlier.

* * *

Alex blinked slowly, the scene around him swimming slowly into focus.  The face of a pretty girl hovered above him, her dark hair obscuring her body.

“Angie, he’s awake,” she shouted, and Alex winced.  His head was pounding, and her shouting really wasn’t helping with that.

There were footsteps approaching from Alex’s right, and he tried to turn his head to see what they were.

“Hold still,” the girl commanded, glaring at Alex.  “We found you passed out in the middle of town, which is uncommon enough, because there are never new people in town, and you’re not allowed to move.  Angelica can and will tie you down if she has to, so don’t try to move or anything else.”

Alex blinked.  “Where am I?”

Another woman appeared in his field of vision.  “You don’t know?  How did you get here if you don’t know where you are?”

“I was waiting on a story, passed out from dehydration or heat stroke, I’m guessing, and then woke up here.”

The woman, who he presumed was Angelica, looked at him with narrowed eyes.  “I see.  Welcome to Glory.”


	2. Not Very Likely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The people of Glory aren't exactly friendly to outsiders, and Alex is definitely an outsider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mild transphobia. Born entirely out of ignorance, but if that's going to be a problem for you, just be warned that it is in there to some extent.

_Your existence is not impossible but it’s also not very likely.  (Welcome to Night Vale, Episode 16, The Phone Call)_

Alex stared up at Angelica in confusion.  “What the hell is Glory?” he managed to get out.

“Watch your language around the lady,” a deep voice commanded, and Alex automatically turned to look, regretting it as soon as he did, as his head screamed at him.

“Washington, I’ve been the doctor for as long as I’ve lived in Glory.  Trust me, I’ve heard worse,” Angelica said, a note of amusement in her voice.

“All the same.”  The voice traveled closer to Alex, and he blinked as a new face entered his field of vision.

“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” the man demanded.  “How did you get here?”

Alex froze for a minute, trying to gather his thoughts enough to explain himself.  “My name is Alexander Hamilton.  Alex.  I was sent here from New York to write an article about this town—Glory?  Is Glory the name of the town?  I’m not really sure how I got here, though, to be honest.  I was waiting, then I passed out, and when I woke up I was here.  That’s all I know, really.”

Angelica pulled Washington away from Alex, and the two of them engaged in a whispered conversation, one Alex only caught snippets of.

“Bounty hunter…bring us back…”

“Look at him…”

“…one of them, then…”

“Call Lafayette…with the others…”

Alex slowly sat up, working through the pain.  It really wasn’t that bad once he was all the way up, which came as a relief.  He didn’t know what was going on, but it didn’t sound great.

He saw Washington nod and say something to the girl who had first told Angelica that Alex was awake, and the girl hurried out.

Washington and Angelica turned to Alex, frowning when they saw him sitting up.

“What are you?  Truthfully?” Washington demanded.

“What?” Alex asked, thoroughly confused.  “I’m human?  Did you mean who am I?  Because I already answered that, I’m Alex, a reporter from New York.”

Angelica whispered something to Washington, whose frown deepened.  Before he could say anything, though, three men walked into the room, followed by the girl who, Alex assumed, had gone to get them.  He couldn’t see any of the men well, but he didn’t feel entirely comfortable about them being there.  There was something about their presence that was vaguely threatening.

“Thanks, Peggy,” Angelica said, turning to the men.  “He says that he’s human, but you know how things are.  We can’t risk it.”

Alex frowned.  That sentence made no sense.  Of course he was human; what else would he be?

But before he got a chance to ask what Angelica had meant, the three men approached Alex.  They were all bigger than he was, although, to be fair, that wasn’t exactly hard, and whatever had felt threatening about them was even more intimidating close up.

One of them, a tall and lanky man with wild curls pulled into a ponytail, stood back while the other two pulled Alex to his feet.  His head spun wildly, and he felt like he was going to be sick.

The next few moments were an overwhelming blur of sun and dust and trying damn hard to keep consciousness.  It wasn’t until he was inside another building, in the blessed shade, that Alex was able to focus on anything.

The building appeared to be an old-fashioned jail, and something about it wasn’t making sense.  Alex thought it was something in the proportions, but with his head spinning as much as it was, he couldn’t be sure.

“Strip,” one of the men, the one who watched while the others had manhandled Alex, commanded.

“No,” Alex said, voice rising slightly in panic.  He couldn’t do that. 

“It’s not your decision,” the man countered, a lilting accent at complete odds with the firmness in his voice.

“Are you French?” Alex asked, both out of curiosity and an attempt to distract the man enough that he would stop trying to get Alex to strip.

“Oui,” the man said curtly.  “Now, strip.”

“Why?”

“We need to check if you’re human, or, at least, human in body.”

That wasn’t a good enough reason, let alone one that made any sense, so Alex set his jaw and refused.  He was using all his strength to fight back, for all the good it seemed to be doing.

“Hercules.  John.”

The two men who had dragged Alex to the jail approached him, and, for the first time, Alex got a good look at them.  All three of the men were good looking, but the shortest of the lot was gorgeous, with dark curls escaping a low ponytail and freckles (god, Alex was a sucker for freckles).

The pretty one (Alex wasn’t sure if he was Hercules or John) reached for the hem of Alex’s shirt, and Alex panicked, fighting back against the other’s touch, while simultaneously, in some rebellious corner of his brain, craving it.  He would let this man touch him anywhere, everywhere, dysphoria and shame be damned.

The man had a height advantage over Alex—not much of one, but enough to overpower him, especially as the other man caught Alex’s flailing arms and held them still.

Once Alex’s shirt was off, everyone froze.  Alex from fear, the other three from shock or confusion, presumably. 

Alex shifted uncomfortably, pulling his tan binder away from his skin slightly.  He probably shouldn’t be wearing it, given the heat stroke or dehydration he had succumbed to, but he wasn’t about to take it off. 

“I’m not taking it off,” he said harshly, glaring at the other men in challenge.

“You have to,” the pretty one said quietly.

Alex shook his head.  “I can’t.” 

“You have to.”

Alex took a deep breath, then decided that it would be far worse for them to take it off him than it would be for him to just take it off himself.  As such, he quickly pulled off the binder, and the men recoiled slightly. 

Alex sighed, but the Frenchman beat him to saying anything. 

“Hercules, go get Angelica.”

One of the men vanished, leaving Alex with the knowledge with the pretty one was named John.  It was a nice name, one that Alex could see himself breathing in bed…

Alex shook his head, noticing as he did that he was already feeling much better, which was a relief.  But, regardless of how he felt, he couldn’t think about John like that.  With his current situation, there was no way that they would ever work out.

Both John and the Frenchman were carefully ignoring Alex, and he was about to try and say something to them when Hercules returned with Angelica.

Angelica arched an eyebrow when she saw Alex.  “You said your name was Alexander?  Are you hiding your gender for a reason?  Women are held in equal esteem to men here—you don’t need to hide.”

“My name _is_ Alexander,” Alex said.  “I’m not trying to hide my gender.  I’m trans.  Female to male.”  He lifted his chin defiantly, glaring at the people there, even the ones who were trying to avoid looking at him

The residents of Glory huddled together, holding a brief and muffled conversation that Alex couldn’t hear.  He wasn’t entirely sure what it was about, but it wasn’t much of a jump to assume that it was about him, and that was making his stomach twist itself into knots.

After a few long, tense minutes, Angelica came over to him.  “We can’t risk letting you out into the town.  You claim to be human, but you’re not the first to say that and not actually be.  There is, as well, the point of certain…abnormalities, ones that we are not equipped to handle.  You will be confined here until further notice.  Your bags are quarantined in town hall for someone to go through and try and confirm that you are as human as you claim to be.  Behave.”

She swept out, the skirt of her pink calico dress brushing against Alex’s legs in what felt more like a dismissal and judgement than her words had.

Nervous, Alex looked over at the others.  “Seeing as you all know both my name and my biggest secret, can I at least learn your names?  I mean, I know Hercules and John, but no more than that.”

Hercules shook his head.  “We can’t do that, and you know exactly why.  Don’t play the fool in order to harm us all.”

Alex frowned, but didn’t argue.  He was already in jail, mistrusted, an outsider in a place he was completely unfamiliar with—completely out of his depth.  There was no chance of writing or talking his way out of this one—his only option was to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't originally planning on having a trans Alex, but my friend Theo and I were talking about how much we love trans Alex, and I didn't want to start a new project to write about trans Alex, and I'm too deep in Eyes to change that now. As such, here you go.
> 
> Secondly, I have News that will affect this story. Nothing major or bad; I just need to let you guys know that I will probably be taking a hiatus from Glory (and Eyes, if you’ve read that) during April. This is because I’m doing Camp NaNoWriMo during April and getting some more work done on My Novel (capitalized because it’s a big deal to me). I won NaNo proper with that shit, which means that it’s already 50,000 words. I plan on writing another 30,000 during Camp NaNo, which means a thousand words a day, more than I’ve written consistently since NaNo ended. That being said, with how much work I’m going to have to do on KT, I’m not sure if I’ll be up for working on Eyes or Glory. I’ll update if I feel up to working on them, but I make no promises.
> 
> I really don't love this chapter too much. It's pretty much filler. Like, there's big things coming, but they didn't fit in this chapter. So you get a shorter update than I prefer (it's like 1470 words, and I like my chapters to be at least 2000...), but it's an update. So that's great, I guess.
> 
> Next order of business: you guys are amazing. Honestly. I scream every time that I get a new comment; it makes me so happy that you guys are engaging with this and everything. My Tumblr is smallinsaneone if any of you want to come talk to me there—I’d probably dance around my dorm screaming hysterically or some shit like that.
> 
> And good night, readers, good night.


	3. You Project Your Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something in the jail isn't human.

_There’s a monster under your bed.  A monster at your window.  A monster any place you can imagine one.  You project your monsters on the world. (@nightvaleradio, October 9 th, 2013)_

* * *

 

Alex was bored out of his mind.  He hadn’t been allowed to have any of his bags, or even anything out of them.  And, to make matters worse, it had only been a few hours that he had been sitting in that jail cell, and he was to be there until further notice. 

He had to resign himself to boredom and no distractions.  He knew that he couldn’t have his bags, and it wasn’t like he was going to have any visitors unless they came to execute him or something like that.  He wasn’t sure why the people of the town were so distrustful of him.  He assumed that they had had some previous bad experience with visitors, but it still made no sense.  They hadn’t even let him explain himself, had said something about him _saying_ he was human—what the hell else could he possibly be?—and now he was locked away for a crime he didn’t even know about.  Alex wasn’t an expert on the law, but he was pretty sure that his imprisonment was unconstitutional or something.

That sounded like it could be an essay for his blog—the ethics of being arrested and jailed, or something like that.  He would need to do a lot of research, but the topic was right up his alley. 

With a lack of anything else to do, Alex started composing the essay in his head—well, out loud, actually.  He would remember it that way.  It was an old habit of his, one that he couldn’t remember not doing, and it had always driven his roommates nuts.  Luckily, sort of, there was no one for Alex to bother in his current situation, so he got started composing the essay.

The focus Alex had on figuring out the essay made the time go quickly, and he received a shock when he looked up and realized that at some point the sun had gone down and that he was oddly tired, probably a side effect of the heat stroke.

Alex wrapped himself in the scratchy woolen blanket and let himself sleep.

* * *

Alex jolted upright.  Something had woken him, he just wasn’t sure what.  Whatever it was, his heart was racing and he was on edge, his fight or flight response taking over before he was even fully awake.

There was a thump from somewhere in the jail, and Alex jumped.  He didn’t know what the sound had been, but it had been incredibly loud and had echoed through the jail, and it was, presumably, what had woken it.  That explained the fight or flight state, at least.

The thump came again and again, increasing in frequency until it was almost a constant noise.  Its rhythm was broken by a loud crash and a terrifying shrieking roar.

There was the ringing of a bell from elsewhere in the jail, which was then echoed by a bell that sounded like it was outside the jail, somewhere in the town.

Alex pressed himself to the door of his cell, peering out the window to try to figure out what was going on.  He really couldn’t see much, only a few feet in either direction down the hall outside his cell, not enough to figure out what was happening.  He had to admit that he really didn’t have much—any—experience with jails back in New York, but he was relatively sure that this was not a common occurrence.

Shouting and the sound of pounding feet could be heard moving towards Alex’s cell, and he tried harder to see.  Several people ran past—several _armed_ people, which was even more alarming.  They were moving too fast to be sure, but Alex thought that he saw the people from the town that he had already met, even the women in their long skirts.

“What is going on?” Alex called out as the final man approached, dressed in all black and looking more solemn than the others.

The man slowed to look at Alex and opened his mouth, but then he seemed to realize something, shook his head, and kept going after the others.

Frustrated, Alex collapsed onto the bed against the wall, trying to ignore the shouts and piercing shrieks that were echoing through the building.  His journalist brain (and, honestly, his natural curiosity; who was he kidding) was dying to know what was going on out there, but he was stuck inside a jail cell and would probably never know, seeing as no one would talk to him, because he was dangerous for reasons that he didn’t understand.

The shouts seemed more panicked and the shrieks closer, although Alex stubbornly ignored it.  It wasn’t like he was going to get anything out of paying attention, he reasoned, only more questions.

He was sticking firmly to that line of thought when the wall of his cell imploded, sending splinters into the room, several hitting Alex himself.  He looked up to see what had caused the wall to be destroyed like it had, and panicked.  He had absolutely no idea what the _hell_ that thing was, but it was terrifying.

It was a sickly shade of green, with intelligent eyes that fixed Alex with a piercing gaze before fitting its entire body into the cell.  It was smaller than the sounds it made suggested, but that made it no less frightening.  Its teeth were long, curving, and looked razor sharp, and its claws were the same.

Alex honestly had no idea what to do.  He had no doubt that the creature was dangerous, but he also had nothing to protect himself with except a blanket and his fists, neither of which were likely to do any good whatsoever.  His only escape was blocked off by the creature itself, and Alex knew that there was no way that he was fast enough to make it out without being at least seriously injured, if not killed.

Then Alex realized that he was likely going to be seriously injured, if not killed, anyway, and panicked.  He was still in fight or flight mode, although that had been kicked up a notch when the creature had appeared, and he wasn’t sure how much longer his body could maintain the panicked state.

The creature hadn’t moved since bursting into the cell, and Alex started to relax, however slightly.  That seemed to be his mistake, because the creature attacked him, moving faster than Alex’s eyes could track.  In fact, he had barely realized it had moved before he was bleeding profusely from his left arm.

It didn’t stop there.  Alex wasn’t sure what the creature was trying to do, besides maybe inflict maximum pain.  There were far easier ways to kill him, if that was what it was trying to do.

There really was an alarming amount of blood.  Alex wasn’t sure how much he had lost, or how much he could lose and still survive, but it really wasn’t looking good.

Everything was hazy now, presumably due to the blood loss, and Alex thought that he could hear voices somewhere outside the cell, but, for all he knew, they were just in his head.  It was very possible.

Things were happening, but Alex honestly wasn’t sure what.  He was far too busy passing out to actually figure out the voices and shrieks and everything else.

* * *

Alex woke in a dimly lit room, in a proper bed with a proper blanket, with absolutely no memory of what had happened.  He went to sit up and regretted it immediately as every single part of him started to burn in pain.

“I’m under strict instructions to not let you move,” a light voice said.  “You got injured pretty badly—it’s a miracle that you’re alive.  Angelica stitched you up while some of the men held you down.  You were screaming and flailing a lot, not that I can blame you.  Hit John pretty hard in the face before Preacher Burr grabbed your arm.”

Alex frowned, sorting through his memories as they returned to him.  He couldn’t remember everything since he had arrived in Glory—the pain was making his mind foggy.  He could remember the face that went with Angelica, but, although the name John rang a bell, he couldn’t place it.  He could also remember the attack by the— “What the hel—what in the world _was_ that?”

The girl—he could only just see her from where he was lying; she was pretty, with dark hair—shrugged.  “We don’t actually know.  It’s been in the jail for a while now.  All we _do_ know is that it only attacks humans, which, given your current state, does seem to confirm your insistence that you are human.”

“Thanks,” Alex muttered.

“You’re awake!” came an upbeat voice as a man with a black eye entered the room.  Alex recognized him, and more of his memories returned.

“Oh, shit,” Alex muttered.  “John is the pretty one, Alex.” 

John raised his eyebrows.  “The pretty one?”

Since he couldn’t roll over to bury his face in the pillow, Alex carefully pulled the blankets up over his head in embarrassment.  “Ignore me.  I’m in pain.  I don’t know what I’m saying.”

John laughed.  “I own and run the tavern here in town.  Believe me, I’ve heard it all.  I’m just not used to pretty.  That’s more often used to describe Eliza here, and her sisters.  The belles of the town, that’s what the Schuyler sisters are.”

Alex peeked his head out from under the blanket to look at Eliza and John.  “I concur.  She is very pretty.  I met two other pretty girls, even though one spent a lot of time insisting that I wasn’t human, and I really didn’t see the other all that much.  So I guess that I didn’t really meet two other pretty girls.  I just sort of saw them.  The judgmental one was the doctor, I think.  Are those your sisters?  You don’t look alike, but you’re all very pretty.”

“Yes, those are my sisters,” Eliza said, ignoring the rest of Alex’s rambling.  “Now, you really should go back to sleep before Angelica returns and threatens to knock you over the head with a frying pan.  She did that once to an uncooperative patient.”

“I’m pretty sure that was me,” John said in the background, and Eliza started laughing.

“See?  Proof that it does happen.”

Alex started laughing, then abruptly stopped as his wounds started to ache.  “I have to say, John doesn’t quite strike me as the type to argue with a doctor.  I mean, I have to admit that I don’t know him all that well yet, but all the same.”

“To be fair, I was drunk!” John announced, and Alex could hear the smile in his voice.  “I think you hardly judge my character based on something that I did when I was drunk.”

“John, dearest,” Eliza began (and Alex would never admit how his stomach sank at the term of endearment she used), “given how often you are drunk, I think that we can indeed judge your character off how you act when you’re drunk.”

John started spluttering, and Alex carefully propped himself up on his elbows, face contorting slightly as his wounds pulled.

“I’m sorry about the black eye, by the way,” he said, fixing his eyes on John.  “I assure you that I would never purposefully injure such an attractive face. Well, okay, I would—one of my roommates in college said that I would fight anyone, myself included, and I have to admit that she wasn’t actually wrong—but my point still stands.”

John shrugged.  “It’s not a big deal.  It’s not like you did it on purpose.  I mean, you were conscious, but you were definitely out of it.  And it was because of pain.  Really not a big deal.”

Alex’s reply was cut short by Angelica sweeping into the room.  “And what do you think you’re doing up?  Lie down, now, and sleep.  Best way to heal, and you’ll never heal if you don’t lie still.”

Alex knew better than to argue, so he did as he had been told and drifted off to the soft sound of voices in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last update before I dive into Camp NaNo and my novel (I'm not ready; send help). I'm actually pretty happy with this one, to be honest.
> 
> Everyone in the town has a job. I had all sorts of fun figuring these out. The list is as follows:  
> Aaron Burr: preacher  
> Angelica: doctor  
> Eliza: schoolteacher  
> Peggy: general store owner   
> Washington: mayor  
> Lafayette: jailor  
> Mulligan: tailor  
> John: tavern owner
> 
> Enjoy, let me know what you think, and, as always, good night, readers, good night.

**Author's Note:**

> Glory is a cross between a California Gold Rush boom town and Night Vale from Welcome to Night Vale (hence the title). It's only going to get weirder from here. Enjoy the ride, and good night, readers, good night.


End file.
